Short Stories Stink
by Mandrin Orange
Summary: A short oneshot story, and takes place in Ginny's summer vacation, after an absolutly boring first year. COMPLETE! PLEASE, OH PLEASE, R&R!


A/N: Ah, a wonderful one-shot story completed by moi. Um yeah...I know none of my stories have been liked by you guys but my Fred and George one, so please, show some love, okay? XD

"Don't you just hate it when teachers make you write a story? I mean, I love writing. It gets me through the day. And what about those short ones? God, how in the name of Merlin do you write a short story? All of mine end up wrong _and_ long! Why did mum have to sign me up for this stupid muggle summer school?" I was raving.

Well, today I just felt like complaining. And as I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror fixing my hair, I had the brilliant idea to rave to myself. Besides, Mum was already fed up with me. And breakfast just ended.

"Shouldn't it be a long story? Long stories rock. And they're easier. Only teacher's don't really need to know that because then they would definetly give us short ones. Long stories are awesome. Like Harry Potter. Or Eragon. Lord of the Rings and Princess Bride. Girl with a Pearl Earring..." I began listing. A sure sign of my madness. Okay...maybe it was time to change the subject.

And just as I began telling myself not to even get started on the algebra class, the hottest guy in the world, (exception: Orlando Bloom,) walked past my door, which I stupidly left open, for the whole entire messed-up world to peer into.

He gave me the oddest stare, which didn't surprise me at all. And before he could say a word, and I knew he was going to because his mouth was slowly opening, I shut the door. My dreams, all crushed. Never would he kneel down in front of me and declare his burning desire to be with me forever, and if any other man on this earth would even look at me, he'd kill him. Okay, maybe it wasn't that surprising that my dreams would be crushed, but, you never know.

Exhausted from the complaining fiasco, I flomped on my bed. I glanced down at my newly-polished red toenails. I wiggled them, just to make sure that they wouldn't fall off or anything. And wiggled them again, just because I felt like it. A great sigh escaped me. And just in case anyone was near my door, I sighed again just to make my point clearer. How in the world could my stupid, idiotic, clumsy, and absolutly disgusting step brother have a best friend that looked so delicious? A mystery that will never be solved.

Sometimes I think that my brother is an evil scientist and went to the graveyard to got body parts to put together the hottest guy on earth, like in Frankenstien. Only Frankenstien's monster wasn't hot. I can just imagine him. "It's alive! It's alive!"

I grinned. My imagination, once again, had saved the day. I rolled over, realizing how absolutly comfortable my bed really was. I stroked the fluffy green comforter. My whole room was green. And do you know why? I don't. Probably because it's the best color ever. Even my journal is green.

My journal isn't just a journal. Sure, it has my biggest secrets, and if anyone read them I would kill myself, (killing the reader first, of course). Anyway, the best part is, it holds my stories. I usually leave a story when I get bored with it, but a few in there I actually have finished. And they are really good. I plan to publish them. Once I figure out how to get things published.

As lazily as I could, I reached underneath my bed, totally falling off of it in the process. It didn't hurt. I was used to it. In fact, I even did it on purpose.

I crawled underneath, because I'm skinny like that, and sorted through unmatched socks, stuffed animals from my childhood, and grey dust bunnies. I sneezed, and hit my head on the thing I was looking for. And I admit. That _did_ hurt a bit.

I carefully crawled out, journal in hand. I threw it onto the bed and ran downstairs with as much energy as I could muster. Hey, I had to work off some fat to get ready for the things I was about to eat. I grabbed a bag of nacho cheetos, a few chocolate cookies, and...wait. I looked into the freezer again. There's no cookie dough! The one source of pleasure in my life...and it's gone.

Could my day get any worse?

Suddenly, my mother opened the front door, loaded with grocery bags. She goes nearly every day. Probably because my new brother and his friend are pigs. Only the latter of the two isn't as much of a pig. How could I get married to a pig?

Anyway, as soon as she placed the five bags onto the counter, I began digging for my most prized posession. Screw the journal. I needed cookie dough, and I needed it right now!

Suddenly, my fingers brushed against plastic. My heart raced, and I pulled the container out...yes! Victory!

I ran back upstairs, tripped, and continued running to the safety of my room.

You know whenever you say "Could my day get any worse," it always does? Well, surprise surprise! Another predictable turn in my life. Only I didn't think twice about it when I said it. Sometimes I wonder if it's me that always gets myself into situations like this.

For instance: Never leave your diary on your bed plain as day when your brother and his friend are in the same house. Or same galaxy. Things are bound to go wrong.

Yep. My worst nightmare came to life that day. Not only was there, er, girl stuff in it...but my true confession of my love for Harry. Yes, that's his name. And never say it in vain, either.

My brother was laughing. I was dumb-founded. And Tom...well...he was just being Tom. His hands were shoved into his baggy jeans, his green eyes stairing intently at my green source of freedom. At least I _think_ his eyes are green. I haven't had the nerve to look into them.

"...the horse lay still as it's final breath left it's beastly lips, and the indian cried a war cry..." my brother read. That was my first story I'd ever put in there.

I wanted to rip my red headed brother apart with my bare hands, bite his head off and throw the remains in a lake. But I knew he had some kind of disease. He just had to. A brain tumor or something. Rabies. Yeah, that was it. Rabies...

They knew I was there now, and neither of the two where speaking. And both looked a bit frightened.

"You...you..." I stuttered, trying to find something smart to say. Instead I just walked up to my brother and pulled my journal out of his grasp before setting down my cookie dough. I hardly set it down, so he knew I ment buisness. "Get out..." I said, in an amazingly evil voice. What can I say? I need something to entertain myself. So practicing for a moment like this was an option. And I took it.

Instead of picking a fight, my brother left, a bit shaken. Serves him right. I guess he knew that he would puzzle me by that sudden act of kindness. Told you he's an evil genius from another dimension.

Harry looked as if he was about to say something, but wasn't sure whether or not to say it.

And just when I thought that he made up his mind to say nothing at all, he spoke. "Yeah, um, your stories are like, way cool."

I neerly melted right then and there. I mean...that was a compliment! Next he'd be asking for eternal bondage!

"Thanks..." I stuttered. Yeah, nice. Thanks? HELLO! ANYBODY IN THERE?

"Yeah..." he thought for a moment.

I really wanted to say something. Really, really bad. And yet, I kept my trap shut. I guess I learned from my many years of life that when you keep your mouth shut, people won't get mad at you. Or you won't screw up. Whichever.

My act of heroism was demolished. Now I just had to wait for my knight in shining armor to save me. Which, in case you haven't gotten the puns, means 'he'd better say something or else we'll never get to be boyfriend and girlfriend in our intire lives.'

Suddenly he grasped my hands in his. "I love you," was all he said. And we lived together happily ever after, having nine kids and even a few grandkids as well. Not to mention all the cookie dough.

Okay, maybe this story is a bit exagerrated. And maybe a bit fantisized. But, I did turn in that stupid short story on time.

-x- Ginny Weasly


End file.
